


Weak

by youremykindagirl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:17:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3215507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youremykindagirl/pseuds/youremykindagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke lays in bed contemplating Bellamy's presence in her life and knows that it can't be the same now that they've slept together. No matter how well he knows her, she can't put her heart on the line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weak

**Author's Note:**

> Had a lot of damaged love  
> and somewhere along the way,
> 
> I told myself best not to feel  
> to keep these waves at bay.
> 
> I took two steps back from where he was  
> and ripped my heart from my sleeve
> 
> I'm not sure who exactly whispered it  
> but they said "love is for the weak"

_Had  a lot of damaged love  
and somewhere along the way,_

* * *

 

His dark freckles were one of her favourite parts of him. Small and smattered - they reminded her of summer. Days at the beach and swimming until their fingers were prune-y. It reminded her of the trip their moms took them on to the park when they were eight after she'd broken her arm. And while his sister played, he laid next to her on the grass and they watched the clouds pass them by.

His wavy hair was always soft and silky and she loved running her fingers through it. It fell across his forehead haphazardly most days, and stuck up in all directions in the morning, but he never minded when she played with it or twirled a strand around her finger as she passed by. She could remember sitting with his sister on his bed while he read on the floor and they experimented with hair clips and ties.

When his eyes were open - they were several things. Wide and dark he could use them as a tool however he needed too. They could be soft, but they also struck fear into the hearts of his sisters boyfriends. When she cried over her dead cat they affirmed her belief that she would be okay, and she did give her pet a lot of love while she was alive. His eyes made her. They were honest - is what they were. They were honest, and mean, and insistent, and gentle. While his hands joined hers by the bed frame, his eyes provided her all the love of the words he wasn't ready to say.

* * *

_I told myself best not to feel  
_ _to keep these waves at bay._

* * *

His jaw was strong and defined. He got that from his father - what little either remembered of him.  When he was angry or frustrated the muscle there flexed and in a flash she could see what was going on between angry glares. Two clenches, he was holding back something heavy. One, it was anger. Sometimes if he was swallowing a laugh or biting down on his back teeth to keep from smiling there was a flash of three. As she grew to know him personally the number rose and for every time it happened twice she would yearn to know him deeper.

Her finger ran along the shell of his ear, wondering if it'd tickle him out of sleep. It didn't. She was half on top of him and he was still out cold, so...

His ears, that listened so attentively. That chose what to hear when he was angry, but what allowed him to know things about her she thought he wouldn't. How he knew to bring home cookie dough ice cream when she was around, how he knew she hated cilantro. How he knew that she didn't appreciate being tickled - her ex learned the hard way. How he knew that she gave very few chances anymore.

She watched his chest rise and fall while he slept soundly, and danced her fingers across his collarbone, soundlessly taking note of the scar there, and moving along to his arm, close to where her head rested in its crook. His strong arms...

The muscle built from years of sport and work and carrying his sister around wherever she pleased. They carried her once. Form the backseat of his car into his sisters bedroom. She'd been sixteen. Gone to her first party, had far too much to drink and Bellamy was the one who brought them back safely. Whose eyes kept checking on her in the rear view mirror before she drifted off.

They held her once before as well.  She sat in a hospital chair for four hours by herself before anyone else could arrive. They had gone  up to the lake for summer break. Her dad went to go buy a new tarp in town. He never made it back. Her mother called them and he drove up right away. While his sister was at the nurses desk, demanding to know how the surgery was going, he slipped his hand over hers a squeezed. When they told her she lost her father, he held her tightly so she wouldn't fall.

* * *

_I took two steps back from where he was  
_ _and ripped my heart from my sleeve_

* * *

 

Taking a careful breath, she begin to slide off and away from him, to the other side of the bed. So carefully - so slowly, praying for anything that he wouldn't wake up. She moved across the cold sheets, regretting it, but it had to be done.

She slipped out from under the comforter and tip toed across his floor, gathering bits of clothing as she moved. The creaks of the floor sounded as loud as a blaring alarm to her ears after the gentle silence they basked in. She watched him carefully as she dressed, wanting to remember him just like this. Happy, sound, at simply having been with her. She wanted to hang on to this night when she remembered him; not the hurt and pain that would come after this night.

After all, it was a mistake. He's not like _him_ , he's better. He knows her, has known her. She knows she's special to him. But having to redefine everything, it wasn't worth it. There was no moving forward and no going back. There would be this moment and then nothing.

Long after she pulled her sweater over her head, she stood in the doorway and wiled him to wake and convince her to stay until morning. But then he stirred in his sleep and her instinct was to step back, into the shadows and she knew it was time to go.

She'd loved him forever, and she was convinced she'd love him for the rest of her life. But maybe it was just her young heart. Maybe she'd look back and it wouldn't be as strong as she thought it was. His eyes, his ears, his arms, his _heart_... they'd be forgettable.

When she closed the apartment door behind her, she knew somewhere in the back of her mind that was a lie. That he'd be with her forever. And she convinced herself that he would let go of her.

* * *

  
_I'm not sure who exactly whispered it_  
 _but they said "love is for the weak"_


End file.
